We left Middlebury just as the sun was beginning to set on Thursday afternoon. It didn’t take us long to cross the bridge over Lake Champlain into New York, and from there we wound our way through the Adirondacks. A roadside pee break afforded us the opportunity to appreciate the Milky Way to a degree that is impossible even in quaint Middlebury.
After a little under seven hours of driving, we stopped off
at a Marriott in Henrietta, New York, just south of Rochester. One of our
number has a familial connection with Marriott, which allowed us to get a deal,
that night and the next.
That night a few of us stopped off at McDonald’s, and I know
I will hear cries of protest from at least one of you (“But haven’t you read Fast Food Nation?”), but considering it
was A) right next to our hotel, B) the only thing open at 10:58 pm, and B)
cheap and easy, I don’t feel the least bit bad about it. Also, one of our
freshmen, a lad from Kenya, had never eaten at a Mickey D’s before, so we
figured it was high time he join the ranks. Welcome to America, Gilbert.
We woke up early but slowly on Friday morning, and drove for
just a couple of hours before putting on the breaks at Niagara Falls. As you
all know, photographs don’t do things like this justice, but neither does not
including photographs that I took with the intent of posting them on this blog.
The bad thing I have to say about the falls deals with their
immediate vicinity. The whole Buffalo and environs area is notoriously ugly and
industrial-looking, and the buildings on either side of the falls, Canadian and
American, do their best to negate any beauty that the falls themselves bring to
the proverbial table. They almost succeed. Almost.
After our looksie at Niagara Falls, we drove by downtown
Buffalo, where I got a good look at the Sabres’ arena from the freeway. The
city itself really doesn’t look that bad; it’s no Albany or Philadelphia. It’s
just the surrounding factory-covered flatlands that unsettle the eye.
Our journey then took us into Pennsylvania and then Ohio,
where we made another stop, this time in the town of Hudson, southeast of
Cleveland. The reason for this stop? One of our company has a grandmother who
lives in an old folks home there, and we figured that’s reason enough for a
little detour. And if ten college kids were a bit overwhelming to the residents
of the retirement community, well, let us forgive the kids. They meant well.
The grandmother in question, I hasten to add, was overjoyed to see so many
smiling people, even if the smiles were born of an awkward situation.
I’ve been in a few such places before, and I ought to say
that this one was pretty nice. My favorite part was a little flyer stapled to
the message board that read something to the effect of, “Write Your
Autobiography!” That’s a nice thought. I’d like to write something like that
when my clock starts winding down, so I’m glad the home is encouraging it.
Oh, and the entire Midwest looks like this:
Oh, and the entire Midwest looks like this:
After hitting up the local Chipotle and driving through
America’s ugliest national park (Seriously, who decides the criteria for
national parks? Cuyahoga Valley, Ohio? I’d sooner call the Back Bay a national
park.), we found ourselves back on the interstate.
 |
| Okay, maybe ugly is a little harsh. Relatively to other parks, though, I stand by that description. |
(NB: Besides the Niagara Falls pictures, all of these are taken off of Google.)
Over the course of the next several hours, we drove by Columbus and Indianapolis, which to me look like the exact same city, and spent the night in a Marriott (discount!) near Indianapolis’ airport.
We got up Saturday morning and drove the hour or so west to Terre Haute, where DIII Nationals took place. Much cheering ensued, as our men's team ran better than any in our school's history, finishing up eighth in the country. Definitely worth the trip out. And then it was time for the trip back.
Ah, the trip back.
We did it in one shot. Started driving at 3pm on Saturday, stopped only for gas (and once in the 'dacks to admire the stars), and got into Middlebury just before 7am Sunday morning. I would like to point out that I was the one of the five in the car I was in that stayed awake the entire time. I would also like to point out that those sixteen hours were a lot more fun than you think they were. We drove paths at moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. We talked to Gods, loved women, and wrote songs that make the minstrels weep. You may have heard of us.
Sorry. Those references are always irresistible to me. On a more sincere note, we basically told stories and sang songs the entire time. We sang along to songs that were playing on the radio, CDs, and iPods, but more fun was when we did straight a capella. Some of us would end up singing lead, and some would do backup. I think we sounded pretty good. Over the course of the trip, we must have sang "Twist and Shout" at least eight times. I'd like to think we had it nailed by the end.
JASON PAY ATTENTION:
Somewhere along Interstate 90 in New York the talk turned to aliens. It was a conversation very similar to those that I've had with Jason and Rich, and at one point we spoke briefly of "Signs" and it turns out one of my best friends here also has an unreasonable fear of the birthday party scene. Groovy.
Quick story from the road:
We pull over for gas in God Knows Where, Ohio after dark. As we approach the gas station, we notice a pair of yellow school buses parked in front. School buses on a Saturday night? It's Ohio, whatever. But as we pull around to the pump, we see a few police officers directing college-age kids out of the buses, lining them up, taking pictures. While we're filling up, some of us head inside to take a wee, and we can't help but notice the shattered alcohol bottles strewn about the floor. We talk with some of the employees and piece together a story. A story that sounds an awful lot like this.
And the best part? As we're driving away, we realize it's just after 6:00. Yeah, 6:00. Moral of the story: Don't start drinking early unless you want to destroy a gas station.
As I said earlier, we pulled into Middlebury a little before seven. The sun had been rising for the last hour or so of the trip, and since we were driving east it made for quite the scene. In the last two minutes and thirty-three seconds of the drive, we had the windows rolled down and "Twist and Shout" blaring at the top of the car speakers' figurative lungs and our literal lungs, one last time. We all then proceeded to sleep for a very, very long time.
And there you have it. Road trip 2012.
The next two days saw some class time, some work time, and, in the case of Tuesday night, a drive down to Sudbury, Massachusetts, where I would be spending my Thanksgiving break at the home of my friend Patrick.
Sudbury (and I'll keep this brief) is a nice, suburban area outside of Boston. We went for a few runs, including Gabe's Run, a fun 5k in Hamilton, Mass. We also visited fellow teammate Greg's house in nearby Ipswich. Greg lives on the beach, and his entire residential setting just looks like a vacation. But I suppose people say the same about where all of us live(d).
How did I pass the time at Pat's?
Over the course of the next several hours, we drove by Columbus and Indianapolis, which to me look like the exact same city, and spent the night in a Marriott (discount!) near Indianapolis’ airport.
 |
| Columbus |
 |
| Indianapolis |
Ah, the trip back.
We did it in one shot. Started driving at 3pm on Saturday, stopped only for gas (and once in the 'dacks to admire the stars), and got into Middlebury just before 7am Sunday morning. I would like to point out that I was the one of the five in the car I was in that stayed awake the entire time. I would also like to point out that those sixteen hours were a lot more fun than you think they were. We drove paths at moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. We talked to Gods, loved women, and wrote songs that make the minstrels weep. You may have heard of us.
Sorry. Those references are always irresistible to me. On a more sincere note, we basically told stories and sang songs the entire time. We sang along to songs that were playing on the radio, CDs, and iPods, but more fun was when we did straight a capella. Some of us would end up singing lead, and some would do backup. I think we sounded pretty good. Over the course of the trip, we must have sang "Twist and Shout" at least eight times. I'd like to think we had it nailed by the end.
JASON PAY ATTENTION:
Somewhere along Interstate 90 in New York the talk turned to aliens. It was a conversation very similar to those that I've had with Jason and Rich, and at one point we spoke briefly of "Signs" and it turns out one of my best friends here also has an unreasonable fear of the birthday party scene. Groovy.
Quick story from the road:
We pull over for gas in God Knows Where, Ohio after dark. As we approach the gas station, we notice a pair of yellow school buses parked in front. School buses on a Saturday night? It's Ohio, whatever. But as we pull around to the pump, we see a few police officers directing college-age kids out of the buses, lining them up, taking pictures. While we're filling up, some of us head inside to take a wee, and we can't help but notice the shattered alcohol bottles strewn about the floor. We talk with some of the employees and piece together a story. A story that sounds an awful lot like this.
And the best part? As we're driving away, we realize it's just after 6:00. Yeah, 6:00. Moral of the story: Don't start drinking early unless you want to destroy a gas station.
As I said earlier, we pulled into Middlebury a little before seven. The sun had been rising for the last hour or so of the trip, and since we were driving east it made for quite the scene. In the last two minutes and thirty-three seconds of the drive, we had the windows rolled down and "Twist and Shout" blaring at the top of the car speakers' figurative lungs and our literal lungs, one last time. We all then proceeded to sleep for a very, very long time.
And there you have it. Road trip 2012.
The next two days saw some class time, some work time, and, in the case of Tuesday night, a drive down to Sudbury, Massachusetts, where I would be spending my Thanksgiving break at the home of my friend Patrick.
Sudbury (and I'll keep this brief) is a nice, suburban area outside of Boston. We went for a few runs, including Gabe's Run, a fun 5k in Hamilton, Mass. We also visited fellow teammate Greg's house in nearby Ipswich. Greg lives on the beach, and his entire residential setting just looks like a vacation. But I suppose people say the same about where all of us live(d).
How did I pass the time at Pat's?
- By playing gratuitous amounts of NHL 2004, that's how. Selanne was on the Avs and Scotty was still with the Devils in that year, so playing as the Ducks isn't all that great.
- By eating turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes!
- By not reading as much Anna Karenina as I should have.
- By depleting my host family's cereal stores.
- By watching Punkin Chunkin.
- By visiting some Midd XC and Track alumni in the area that I knew from last year.
- By sleeping in.
Fun fact: I'm on the Huffington Post.
And I guess I should explain a little. This is a video that one of my friends made at an XC race a few weeks ago. He makes lots of this sort of video, and this one in particular just happened to get popular. And sadly my brief appearance is a little staged. I was in on the joke, but I guess he decided my facial expression made the cut.
It was 9˚F at 9:00 this morning, and we've gotten a few substantial inches on the ground. I've seen a few people wipe out trying to navigate the frozen sidewalks in the last two days. I also saw some people snowboarding down the hill from Pearsons Hall to Battell Hall last night. One of the big trees in front of Mead Chapel is decked out in holiday garb.
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
That scene. Oh gawd.
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